


Heart Out

by hanleiasolo



Series: this must be my dream [2]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, meadows and painting ensue, my small greek children, nothing too crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:50:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanleiasolo/pseuds/hanleiasolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t believe you did that,” I said. <br/>“Are you mad?”<br/>“No.” Truthfully, I wasn’t mad. Yes, I thought he was crazy for doing it, but I wasn’t mad that he had done it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Out

**Author's Note:**

> It's short, it's sweet, and it's based off of a picture I found on tumblr. I hope you enjoy reading about my small greek children and their adventures.

We went hiking once on one of the weekends he came home. He knew a trail somewhere in the woods, and for some ungodly reason I trusted him. We found a meadow filled with various different flowers in bloom. He said the flowers perked up when I entered the field. I said that he was lying. 

After that afternoon, we came to the meadow whenever it was warm enough. I would lie to my mother and tell her that I was hanging out with Athena or Aphrodite. I hadn’t told her that I was friends - somewhat of an item? - with Hades. She would freak out. She freaks out over anything I do. 

“Your mom freaks out because she loves you,” Hades claimed. 

“I hate it,” I responded. 

He smirked. He was lying down in the grass, surrounded by the flowers. The sun reflected off of his skin. He looked peaceful. He looked picturesque. 

My left hand was sitting in his. My right hand was focused on the drawing pad in my lap, tracing lines effortlessly. I didn’t know exactly what I was drawing, but it had turned itself into Hades and the flowers surrounding him. I added minor details to the sketch that weren’t real, like the flowers in his hair and his face more relaxed than the smile he currently wore.

“I like seeing you like this,” he murmured. 

“Like what?” I looked over to him. The expression he had made my heart flutter. The way he looked at me like I was the only thing worth looking at gave me a wave of  _ something _ . I couldn’t express it. It was a whole new feeling to me. 

“Focused. At work. I like seeing your eyebrows crease together in concentration. I like seeing your lips purse together.” I didn’t have a response to that. I could only smile widely at his comments. They made me feel good. Jittery, almost. “I like seeing you smile like that.” 

The heat flooded into my cheeks. “Let go of my hand. I want to get my paints out,” I said, trying to tug my hand out of the grip he created. 

I reached into the backpack next to me and dug around for my acrylics. Usually, the sketch would have been recycled into the pages of my sketchbook and never would have seen the light of day again. However, this particular sketch had meaning. I needed to finish it. 

I tossed the paints onto the ground near Hades while I looked for the brushes. He opened them and started looking at the colors. He held up the white tube and called my name. “You could use this for my skin,” he joked. He wasn’t wrong. He was severely pale. It was like he had never tanned in his life. I laughed and told him to put the tube down. 

He pouted but began to look through my paints again, despite me telling him not to. I finally found the brushes when I saw Hades holding up another paint tube. This time he was holding up a dark red. 

“Your lips are pursed again,” he observed.  

“Are they?” I asked. I hadn’t even realized it. 

“Yeah,” he said. “This color would look good on you.”

“What?” 

“Like, as a lipstick color or something,” he suggested. “Give me a brush.” 

My eyebrow quirked up in question. I didn’t know where he was planning to go with this. I gave the brush to him anyways. I think I trusted him. I let him take me into a strange meadow after all. 

He squirted some dark red paint onto his knuckles and dabbed the brush into it. He smeared excess paint onto the palm of his hand before holding up the brush and looking at me. His gaze was intense but playful. 

“Purse your lips again,” he said to me. He was crazy. I was crazy for puckering my lips for him. For what he was about to do. 

He slowly sat up from his laying position. He carefully stretched his arms, minding the paint on his hands, then scooted closer to me. He extended his arm, and I closed my eyes before the brush could hit my lips. It was warm that day, but the paint was still cold. 

The coldness made my eyes fly open and suddenly I saw Hades. This time, he was the one who was focused. I saw how his eyes squinted on what he was focused on. I watched the way his head cocked to one side instead of staying leveled on his shoulders. 

“Beautiful,” he mumbled and pulled the brush away from my lips. His face was mere inches away from mine and my heart raced. My breath hitched. He hadn’t kissed me yet. I wanted him to kiss me right now. 

My hand snaked between our faces to touch my lips. My fingers dragged across my lips, wet paint resonating on my fingers. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” I said. 

“Are you mad?”

“No.” Truthfully, I wasn’t mad. Yes, I thought he was crazy for doing it, but I wasn’t mad that he had done it. 

“It looks...wow,” he whispered. 

“Good wow?” I asked dumbly.

“ _ Very _ good wow,” he said. 

Before I knew it, he was leaning into me, and my hand was wrapping around the back of his neck. His lips pressed against mine with a welcomed roughness. The paint smeared between our lips. My other hand found his check and held it. His two hands were already on mine. 

There was something innocent about the kiss. There were secrets that would be left to explore soon. There were promises within that kiss. It was the first time I had actually  _ felt _ something with a kiss. 

The jitters found their way back inside of me. Finally, he had kissed me. He kissed me in the flowered meadow with paint spread across my lips. 

When he pulled away, he left me breathless. I could hear him panting too. The rise and fall of his chest was mesmerizing. My eyes flickered from his body back to his smiling face. I couldn’t help but smile back at him. He looked ridiculous with matching red paint on his lips now. He looked like he was mine.

“I like when your lips are pursed too,” I told him. 

“Did you like what they could do?” 

“Definitely.” 

He pulled me back in for a second kiss. 


End file.
